


Pyaar Tenu Karda Agent

by Yass_Rani



Series: Karman AUs [1]
Category: SMZS, Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: M/M, SMZS Spy AU, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yass_Rani/pseuds/Yass_Rani
Summary: Kartik and Aman as spies. I don't think I can say more than that. Please read ;)
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: Karman AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889839
Comments: 46
Kudos: 88





	1. Prologue

Agent Kartik Singh. Best in his batch. Top in field training. Bit lacking in theory but what else do you expect if the books are that boring and do basically nothing?  
He was known as the Jake Peralta of the TASC, famous for his need for drama and his skill of managing to just put in the ‘extra’ into whatever he did.

Agent Aman Tripathi. Among the top of his batch. Strict rule-follower. Best agent in the TASC base.  
You could ask him anything from any book that anyone’s ever written about spy skills and he’d explain it to you in a heartbeat. Senior officers’ favorite.

They had both received intel about an illegal operation that was about to happen soon, except they had no idea where to start, but with only one alleged contact.

  
Agent Singh had been reading his briefing file for the past 20 minutes to figure out how to enter himself into the situation when he'd move onto spy on their subject – Shankar, a scientist with alleged connections to the darker side.

  
Agent Tripathi, also on the same mission, was briefed by his commanding officer, Senior Agent Chaman Tripathi – his uncle, but no one had to know that – and was currently trying to figure out who the hell decided to partner him up with this agent who apparently had a penchant for drama, because Senior Agent Tripathi, of all people, surely did know Aman would not tolerate any antics when it comes to the field.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agents take first impressions very seriously - well, at least Agent Tripathi does.

Needless to say, bookshop-owner-secret-agent-Tripathi was shocked out of his skin when he saw a shiny black Aston Martin Coupe pull up at the empty place opposite his own. A muscly, tall figure in a – are you kidding me? Wait. Was that a- a superhero costume got out and opened up the place.

When Aman was briefed about this Singh being one for a touch of drama, he definitely didn’t expect a superhero suit to be thrown in the mix. Being one for the rules, Agent Tripathi hated unnecessary inputs into the line of work, and he took first impressions very seriously – and this? Kartik Singh wasn’t really on the top of Aman’s list of good first impressions.

Singh, on the other hand, was observing Agent Tripathi’s bookshop from inside his new flower boutique, and although he loves the occasional colour and thrill, he was still very fascinated by the antique looking bookshop, and he’d heard from the guy who sold him his place that ‘the bookseller Tripathi owns a store but never seems to sell any books or get new stock’.

His Amitabh Bachchan fuelled brain automatically pondered if the bookshop was a cover for a cartel Agent Tripathi actually got involved in, then decided against it immediately as the bookseller came into sight through the dusty window. After all, how would a soft looking – kinda cute, if Kartik had any say in it – agent be involved in a cartel, right?

* * *

Kartik wasn’t supposed to meet his partner until four days later according to his agenda, and he was dying of curiosity to know what his partner was like because, well, if you’re a good agent you needed a good partner with you, what with all those dramatic lines and entrances they’d have to work with you through.

  
Aman, well, he just hoped it would go better than the first impression and more importantly hoped to god Agent Kartik wouldn’t wear something that screams out ‘I don’t belong here I’m a spy.’

Alas.

How utterly wrong he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and share!


	3. Chapter 3

It was a nice, sunny morning in the streets of Delhi, as a man in a checked shirt, inconspicuously blending into the locals sipped his chai at the local tea stall. He was waiting for someone, and his demeanor gave it away although he tried to hide it. Because, you see, Aman was honestly _terrified_.

He’d been observing Kartik’s place across the street all week and was very surprised at the amount of people entering and leaving with nothing but a small black bag – from a flower boutique – which was extremely weird in Aman’s opinion, including the fact that the first time he saw the agent was in a goddamn superhero suit.

So now, he was pretty nervous about actually meeting him because if anything at all went wrong with this misson, it could prove dangerous and Aman had the best track record yet – no one was going to disrupt it, not even muscly, handsome idiots in superhero costumes.

The sunlight reflected off the puddles of water from the ditches in the road and the shop windows, converging into rays of stronger light, some of which shot into Aman’s eyes, temporarily disturbing his vision – which was why he first thought what he saw was an illusion, because the sight that beheld him through the light made him question Chaman Chacha’s sanity.

Kartik Singh. Agent Kartik Singh, walking over to Aman’s table, in a _three-piece armani suit_.

In the middle of local Delhi.

Agent Tripathi was very close to bashing his head into the table because well, second hand embarrasment is a real issue. But, really, _who the hell wears a suit in the middle of local Delhi on a secret spy operation_?

“Hello Mr. Tripathi.”

Kartik walked up to the table and took his sunglasses off to wink at Aman, who was very seriously considering giving his uncle a piece of his mind.

“Hi, Mr. Singh.” Came the curt reply.

Kartik Singh sat down in front of his to-be-companion, and all the while, nearly everyone’s eyes were on the mystery man in the suit – which completely destroyed Aman’s expectations because this was supposed to be covert.

“Mr. Singh, this was supposed to be covert. Secret. Why are you wearing a suit?”

“Because I’m worth it, and you know it.” He replied with such a smug expression Aman wanted to punch him.

“Anyways,” he continued. “We know a bit about each other, so let’s skip the formalities. Do you want to discuss the rest in your bookshop?”

What was this man thinking? Having the first meeting in Aman's bookshop? Did he think this was a date? It wouldn't be secret at all if they met up so suspiciosuly in the bookshop! - Not that it was secret currently, because guess who's in a damn Armani suit?

Aman had given up by this point. He just nodded and got up to walk to the bookshop, with an overeager Kartik trailing behind him. Everyone watching the duo thought Kartik was a businessman trying to buy off poor Tripathi’s bookshop.

Once they were inside the bookshop, Aman sat on a chair near the coffee table and motioned for Kartik to take a seat, who proceeded to kick off his shoes and sprawl on the couch, one leg hanging over the chair and hands clasped behind his head.

“Uh, Singh, would you mind sitting straight?”

“Oh, no, I can’t think straight if I do that - not that I can do anything straight, also, you can call me Kartik, Aman.”

First name terms. Aman never called anyone by their first name in his 8 years of fieldwork, and he definitely wasn’t going to do it now.

“It’s okay, Singh.”

“As you wish, Aman.” – which earned him a death glare from the shorter man.

They spent about five hours discussing the best way to spy on the scientist, Shankar, who was rumoured to be working as a ‘private developer’ for gangs and criminals that would hire him to make equipment for their next crime, and was well connected with the drug mafia and terrorists – catching him would ensure almost half the underground activity destroyed because he had a lot of intel.

Although, they weren’t exactly discussing. It was more of Kartik providing increasingly dramatic and insane ideas and Aman contradicting them with every possible thing that could go wrong – which was a lot of things.

Time flew by, and Aman noticed it turned dark outside as Kartik was trying to pitch his idea about approaching the scientist as a superhero firm and asking him to be their “Tony Stark Bro” – which made Aman actually facepalm even with the usually good composure he has.

“It’s getting late, Agent Singh”

“Arre, it’s alright Aman, bro, I don’t mind spending a few more hours in your company.” comes the reply with a smug smirk.

Which was not what Aman Tripathi needed.

“No, I need you to leave so I can continue on my work.”

“Oh but we’re partners! We can do that together – do you have a laptop? We can order dinner! Roti and chicken!”

God, this was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

The two spies ground away at work long into the night – gathering as much background intel as they could before they went out on the field.

Shankar, the scientist they had to get a hold of, apparently specialised in agriculture, but only as a cover – he was working for Delhi’s underground as an on-demand tech expert and helped out in whatever new plans the criminals had for Delhi. Kartik had gone around the neighborhood the day he came in and apparently asked around about Shankar – which, as soon as he told Aman, got him a disapproving glare – and learned he had an assistant called Kusum.

Which was the forming point of Kartik’s new plan.

He was going to get to know Kusum and get to Shankar through her. Aman was conflicted, because this, of course, was a good plan, but it included feelings and well, that doesn’t really end well – and here’s how the conversation went:

“It’s a good plan, Aman, bro, Suman ko pata ke we can get through to him.”

“ _Kusum._ But what about the emotions huh?”

Kartik paused for a bit, then said, in the strongest Amitabh Bachchan voice he could get,

“We’re spies, Aman baby! Emotions hote nahi hai.”

Aman either didn’t listen to Kartik calling him baby, but if he did and maybe felt something – we don’t talk about it.

“No, Singh… What if you fall in love with her or vice versa”

“Well, of course I’m charismatic and wonderful and great, Sunita’s gonna fall in love, but I won’t.”

“ _Kusum._ You can’t just say that, Singh. You _know_ it happens a lot.”

“Well it won’t with me. I’m not going to fall in love with Simran. No chance.”

“It’s _Kusum_ , Singh. That’s too much overconfidence, what are you? A sociopath?”

“The sociopath part is debatable – just kidding. But no, I’m not a sociopath, I’m gay, Aman.”

_Oh. Right._

Now, if _that_ awakened anything in Aman, we don’t talk about it either.

“Well fine then, but if she falls in love with you, you’ll break her heart.”

“Ah casualties, my friend. Sangeeta ne pyaar kar li to kar li Can’t stop it.”

Aman had to agree with a tired huff and softly muttered ‘ _Kusum._ ’ It was 3 am and they didn’t really have better options. They were going to meet Kusum; Aman as a rich smuggler and Kartik as his assistant – something about it being easy for assistants to bond with assistants.

They were wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this and tolerating the shitty short chapters upto now :D  
> Please leave comments and kudos! It really means a lot


	5. Chapter 5

Agent Aman Tripathi wasn’t big on dressing up, but he always dressed up very appropriately for whatever he was doing. Kartik, on the other hand, no matter what he did, his outfits were tenfold dramatic. Completely bollywood, so very extra – and that was why Aman was surpised when he turned up soft the next week.

They were leaving to see Kusum for a planned meeting regarding ‘business purposes’ which really meant Aman’s – or rather – Jeetu Bhai’s smuggling business.

Aman decided to go with khaki trousers and a deep V necked mustard shirt to give off the first impression of a local thug, but added in a thick gold chain to show he was well into the business and profiting from it. The shirt wasn’t really tight, but still showed off a bit of his toned body, which, unarguably was the first thing Kartik noticed as he walked into the bookshop.

Aman had his back to the door, looking at his reflection in a glass window, fixing his hair – or rather, messing it up, Don style. Kartik had to admit, even with his impeccable dressing sense, Aman truly knew how to pull off a character and he even had an earring on his left ear and a slight beard which definitely radiated the energy of an efficient criminal personality.

Aman noticed Kartik staring at him in the window and spun around with a flourish Munna Bhai would be proud of.

“Kya Dubey? Ready to go?” said Aman in the most commanding voice Kartik’s ever heard him speak.

Said Chirag Dubey, Jeetu Bhai’s assistant and right hand was the slightly more fashionable one, but Kartik still got rid of his nose ring and had a classy leather jacket on with a black t shirt and jeans, and a little locket around his neck, but none of his extra, over-the-top accessories and outfits, which was a relief to Aman because he atleast took the job seriously.

“Haa chalo.”

They both walked out the shop and Kartik noticed a new swagger in Aman’s walking. He usually walked around like a damn army man but now he was swinging limbs around like he owned the damn place. So in character Kartik almost had a crush on this new confident don on the streets – he always did like Amitabh Bachchan a lot and seeing Aman this way stirred something in him.

They drove to the bar they were meeting at in a local auto (No, Dubey, we’re not taking your Aston Martin.) and walked into a dingy, noisy, dim lit shack with bottles of alcohol strewn on the ground and the entire place filled with those small time pickpocketers and rowdies except for a tiny, exclusive part of the room where Delhi’s popular gangsters hung out, bodyguards, servants and guns strewn like crayons on a child’s table.

In the far corner of the room, a woman in a yellow kurta flashed the duo a smile and waved them over. Kartik – no, Chirag – realised that was the girl and motioned to Jeetu Bhai.

“Hey look that’s Suman.”

“It’s _Kusum_ , Chirag.”

They walked up to Kusum – a 20 something woman who was somehow very bubly and cheery for a criminal’s assistant. You’d never have guessed she would work for someone like Shankar – she looked like the classic girl next door.

Kartik walked up to her first, as Aman slowly staggered behind, grabbing a bottle of beer from the counter with a toothpick between his teeth (Kartik might’ve had a small heart attack seeing the level of transformation.)

Chirag Dubey started his plan immediately, winking at the lady and extending his hand, introducing himself.

“Hallo! Chirag Dubey – Jeetu’s right hand man.”

“Jeetu _Bhai_.” A stern reply shot from behind, as a shorter, but more commanding figure walked up.

“Hello! There’s a room behind, we can talk there!” came the cheeriest input from Kusum, completely out of context from the place they were in.

They all walked to the room – Kusum practically ran in – and Jeetu immediately took the biggest sofa, manspreading to the fullest he could because, well, he didn’t really have long legs, and the other two sat on chairs either side of him.

“So, Simran, batao, what do you even do for Shankar? He has no business with such a beautiful lady, no?”

“Uh, Dubey ji, it-”

“Chirag. Call me Chirag.”

“Okay, Chirag, I’m just his assistant, Kusum.” She smiled.

“Acha oi Kusum, tell me, what’s the deal?”

The moment Jeetu spoke, Kusum turned her entire attention towards him, like Chirag wasn’t even there. She almost looked _interested_ in Jeetu, and not even the ‘he’s getting us money’ way.

“Uh.. Jeetu ji, the thing is, Shankar sir usually takes 40% of all profits but I can tell him to lower it to 20% only for you.”

“ _Ahh, theek hai_.”

Aman’s local _Bhai_ accent was impeccable, and Kartik almost forgot that soft stuck up Agent Tripathi he first met.

There were two things that happened in the next hour.

  1. Kartik – or rather – Chirag, was trying his best to flirt with this Sunita woman, but she didn’t look very interested in the flirting which he swore worked with every single person – men _and_ women he’s tried those lines with.



  1. Kusum was continuously trying to flirt with Jeetu. She refused to call him bhai, almost called Chirag that once – despite his continuous attempts at flirting.



By the time they were done discussing potential meet up dates with Shankar and Kartik ran out of all the pickup lines he had, it was dark outside and the bar showed signs of a potential gambling and drinking chaos, when the duo decided to leave.

Jeetu stood up and motioned for Chirag to leave, then waved a vague goodbye to Kusum, who returned it highly enthusiastically, before he walked out leaving an awestruck Kusum staring at him.

“Yaar tera bhai kitna handsome hai…” she went off in a dreamy accent and Chirag didn’t know if he was jealous or confused.

“Arre Sangeeta, bhai hoga tera.” He stormed outside shrugging his leather jacket on.

Aman was very confused as to why the Kartik that never stopped talking was suddenly quiet the entire time.

“Aman this plan isn’t working out.”

“Why? It seemed pretty good.”

“No, I can’t flirt with her.”

“Achchaaaaaa ji so now you have a conscience?”

“No Aman, Sunita is obviously into you.”

“ _Kusum._ Singh, it’s _Kusum_. And no, she’s not into me what’re you saying?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me she was so into you she ignored all my pick up lines and just heart eyed you the entire time.”

“No way I-”

“Yes, Aman.”

“I’m not flirting with Kusum.”

“You have to.”

“Singh…”

“Aman.”

“Yaar nahi kar sakta! I’m gay! I can’t!”

_Oh._

“Acha you don’t even have to flirt just be that Jeetu Bhai and she’ll fall for it.”

“Ugh.. okay then…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys istg this sounded so much better in my head but I can't write Kartik stupid flirting its so hard wtf aghhh


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry this is so fuckin short I swear I'm trying my writer's block is really killing me rn but dsjdsahdsgajfg

As stressed as Aman was about the second meeting with Kusum, he’d shoved a hell lot of instructions on Kartik – everything ranging from their faux identities to the sting operation they would do. The two agents had spent the entire week they had to form a plan to be able to get the most information they could before reporting back to head office.

Not to mention Aman’s extensive research on pickup lines and flirting advice to get through Kusum. No one blamed him – he’d never flirted with a woman before and had _no_ idea what they liked because, well, as much as Bollywood shoved it in his face, he was sure no women liked to be creepily followed and sang songs to from strangers.

However, Kartik had given him a lot of necessary training and by training, it was mostly him popping up with random flirting and pickup lines. He’d helped Aman perfect that _Rangbaaz_ attitude Jeetu Bhai had to have, and almost choked on his drink when the man tested a pickup line on him:

“Aye, Diwali hai kya? Yahaan to mast pataakha he”

Which originally was the one Kartik had said once, except he’d said, “Is it Diwali because you’re a pataakha, girl.”

Understandably, Kartik was very, _very_ flustered when he heard his own words being used on him with that sexy AF – Ahem, he’s a colleague, stop – accent Aman perfected for the role of Jeetu Bhai.

Saturday finally rolled around and the criminal duo sat at the bar waiting for Kusum to show up. Jeetu Bhai, not once breaking character, was lounging on the old couch with a cigarette between his lips, twirling a pocket knife with his fingers, while Chirag was waiting outside the booth.

“Aa Gayi.”

He’d expected Jeetu to get up and greet Kusum, but the man didn’t even bat an eye when they came in. Kusum giggled and waved at Jeetu while Chirag took a seat to the side. Jeetu Bhai didn’t wave back, but eyed the lady up and down and smirked, puffing out a small cloud of smoke.

“ _Arey O Dubey!_ ”

“Hm?”

“ _Aaj diwali hai kaa? Madam toh pataakha dikh rahi hai yaar!_ ”

Kusum’s blush could’ve put Mars to shame.

“Umm, you can’t see boss yourself, but I’ll handle the communication between both parties,” she managed to squeak out between her overwhelmed stuttering.

“ _Arey_ , _jaaneman_ , we need to see him personally – we’ll talk about this, don’t worry,” Jeetu winked back at her.

“Um, I do want to know where you’re from? I don’t recall hearing about a Jeetu Bhai ever before…”

“I’m uh, gonna go get a drink,” Chirag interrupted

Chirag left the booth as they’d planned, while Jeetu Bhai continued to flirt with Kusum – and avoiding her probing in the way – and vice versa, which within ten minutes resulted in her blushing so hard a satellite could see the red if it passed over Delhi.

Exactly fifteen minutes after Chirag left, Jeetu’s phone rang.

“ _Haa Bauua?_ ”

“ _Arre yaar_ tell that bastard Jeetu Bhai’s going to beat the shit out of him.”

“ _Ab phone rakhega ya doon ek kantaap pe?_ I’m talking to someone special here – _phone rakh!_ ”

Jeetu’s replies to whatever the person on the other side said, combined with his flirting were enough for Kusum to put her questions off.

Chirag came back, and after watching a solid fifty minutes of painful and cheesy flirting, he decided it was best to leave.

“Okay we’ll be back next week, we can visit Shankar Ji then,” he said.

“Excuse my _chela_ , we just have some… well, irksome clients, we need to deal with ourselves, so I’ll meet you next week.”

His smirk had Kusum failing at forming a coherent reply, so she just nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment, and fell back on the couch in shock when Jeetu sent her a flying kiss just before he walked out the door.

“Good job, Jeetu Ji, _”_ sneered Kartik - he was for some reason very quiet after they came back, except for snarky comments about his flirting - to which Aman glared at him – he did _not_ like flirting with women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I've had a stupid writer's block that wasted most of my initial quarantine time but I finally have something! I promise I'll update sooner next time <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kartik and Aman finally meet Shankar, but meeting the person they're supposed to investigate turns out to be the least eventful thing that happens that day. Also before you ask, no it's not even the kiss that's the most eventful.

Finally, five more flirting sessions with Kusum, a hell lot of cheesy one liners from Aman and an equal number of facepalms from Kartik later, the agents had managed to get a meeting scheduled with Shankar.

Walking towards a small shack in a bustling slum, Jeetu and Chirag saw Kusum grin at them and wave from the entrance. Rolling his eyes, Chirag huffed, moving to give Jeetu space as he walked in front of Kusum and took off his sunglasses with a flourish, winking at her.

Kusum blushed and giggled, turning to show them into the shack. The agents walked in to find a small make-shift office – a rusty old table and almost-broken chairs set in the middle of the room, a short, almost balding man sitting on one of them. Kartik and Aman nodded in greeting, having recognized him immediately from the blurry case file photos.

Shankar.

The scientist looked up from an array of metals and tools set on the table – probably working on his new project, Kartik thought – and greeted the two men at his door.

“ _Namaste_. Jeetu Bhai, yes?,” he questioned, “Kusum has told me a lot about you,” winking at Aman.

Kartik rolled his eyes, the action noticed by Shankar, who turned to him, “And you must be Chirag?”

“ _Arre,_ leave all that stuff. Let’s get down to business,” said Aman, turning a chair around and moving to sit, casually manspreading in a clear power stance that had _absolutely nothing_ to do with the blush rising on Kartik’s face.

The taller agent stood beside Aman, scowling at Shankar as him and Kusum gushed over ‘Jeetu Bhai’, who only had a smirk on his face the entire time as they hyped him up, talking about how handsome he is and how lucky Kusum was to meet him.

About two hours later, they finally ended up saying goodbye, having just finished talking over some weapon specifics that Shankar already had and scheduling their next appointment to look at the work on-hand. Shankar was smiling all through the chat and Kartik felt like something was off, but he couldn’t put a finger on it as he was distracted by Aman’s smile at Kusum’s flirting.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of goodbyes, Kartik glared at his partner as they walked out towards the bike Kartik had rented out for the occasion – he wanted the two agents to be close at all times, in case of emergencies, of course, _nothing at all_ to do with the fact that Kartik quite liked Aman driving around as he sat behind him, feeling the wind blow his hair out and how he felt so comfortable holding on to him whenever there was a bump in the road, the jolt pushing him forward to frame Aman’s smaller body and- _Shut up Kartik what are you thinking-_

Snapping out of his daze, Kartik glared at Aman through the mirror of the bike all through the ride, only softening when Aman whipped his head around when they reached his bookshop, raising his eyebrows in question.

“What?” Kartik asked innocently.

“You know what, Kartik.”

“N- no I don’t,” he stammered, scowling as his voice came out meeker than expected at Aman’s stare.

“Why are you glaring at me?” Aman questioned as they walked into the bookshop, Kartik going straight for the bottle of wine he’d left on the table last night.

“Why do you care? Your gaze is pretty much occupied by Simran,” he huffed.

“Kartik what-,” he began, only to widen his eyes in realisation. Kartik was a bastard, but he was soft when it came to _some_ things, and Aman had observed those through the weeks of being around the man – not to mention his tipsy state when he got just a little bit drunk on wine.

Kartik was a bastard and he was a _jealous_ one.

“Are you jealous of her?” he asked with a smirk.

“What? Suman? No way-”

“Kusum, Kartik. You’re jealous of her aren’t you?”

“N- No I’m not-”

Aman simply widened his smirk, stepping forward, his eyes glinting with newfound mischeif as Kartik gulped and stepped back. They danced like that until Kartik hit the wall and his heart was beating out of his chest, eyes wide and breath heavy as he tried his best to hold in everything that made him want to blurt out his feelings for the past month.

Until he couldn’t anymore.

“Yes! Yes. I am,” he confessed finally, “I am jealous of her, you like her so much and-” watching as Aman cocked his eyebrow in victory, he took a deep breath before continuing, his heart thumping loudly as Kartik decided to take a leap.

“I like you! Okay? I- I like you and I don’t know if you do and- and it’s okay if you don’t _god I hate her_ I like you Aman-”

And before he could finish his declaration, he heard Aman’s soft huff. Kartik’s eyes glanced at his lips before he looked back, only to see an expression on Aman’s face that made his brain take control of his body before he could comprehend it.

Aman’s eyes widened as Kartik crashed his lips onto him, the force making him expect the kiss to be fierce. He was wrong – it was all but. Kartik’s lips were soft, softer than he’d imagined, and Aman never would say it but he imagined it _a lot_. His eyes fluttered shut as he moved his lips against Kartik’s, drawing a soft sigh from him, his hands tangling in Kartik’s hair while Kartik held on to Aman’s shirt like it was the last thing he’d hold, making Aman never want to stop.

They broke the kiss, only to catch their breath, but Aman ended up pecking at Kartik’s lips again, sending them into another session, only to be interrupted by the doorbell. Kartik huffed against Aman’s lips in annoyance, breaking off to match Ama’s guilty smile as he rushed to open the door.

Kartik picked up a letter from the doorstep, turning the yellow envelope in his hands, eyebrows furrowed as he read the sender’s name and message in soft cursive:

_From Kusum and Shankar,_

_Jeetu ji, I hope you like it!_

He rolled his eyes before opening the envelope, the playful glare in his eyes changing into a confused shock when he saw the letter inside. Kartik’s hands shook, the letter dropping to the floor as he raised his gaze to Aman, eyes burning, threatening to well up when Aman saw the fallen letter and raised his hands towards Kartik.

“Kartik, I can explain-”

Aman was interrupted by the slam of the front door as Kartik stormed off to his place. He could see the man’s reflection on the window of the building in front of him as he wiped at his eyes before entering the small place, banging the door shut behind him. He wanted to go after him. He wanted to hold Kartik and explain, to tell him everything but he couldn’t move from his place as his gaze fell back to the letter on the floor.

The words in gorgeous cursive print highlighted with red accents set on the golden card paper caught his eyes, the text blurring out of focus as his eyes started welling up.

_Shankar and Sunaina cordially invite you to this wonderful occasion,_

_Aman weds Kusum_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! promise I'll try update faster!!!
> 
> I hope you liked it! Please like and leave comments, I appreciate everything! You can message me or send an ask to be tagged or send in a prompt. 
> 
> Main masterlist and request list are linked in bio on my Tumblr: yass-rani


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kartik now knows Aman's set to marry Kusum. But he's kissed him. No one knows what's happening, but Kartik turns up injured.

Slamming the door behind him, Kartik sank down to his knees. The lilies in his coverup of a florist shop had always smelt nice to him but tonight, it was all but overwhelming. Hands still shaking and stinging from the papercut he got when he let the damned letter drop to the ground, Kartik reached up to the doorknob and quietly locked it, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

In the darkness of the room, hair messed up and lips still swollen from his kiss, Kartik Singh cried.

He’d finally opened up, months later. Finally got the courage to _kiss_ Aman, his partner, who he’d somehow fallen in love with during their mission. Aman, his partner, the stoic piece of shit – who _kissed him back_. Even between the heaving of his chest and shaking hands running through his locks, Kartik remembered the elation he felt. The relief when Aman finally kissed him back. His heart had gone crazy, like it probably would’ve popped out of his chest.

It was actually still beating very fast – although for an entirely different reason.

_Shankar and Sunaina cordially invite you to this wonderful occasion,_

_Aman weds Kusum_

Kartik was in denial for a good five seconds. He almost regarded it as a prank and was prepared to laugh with Aman at it. But then he looked up and saw Aman’s face. A spark. A spark of recognition, just a tiny, tiny glimmer that Kartik almost didn’t catch.

Aman knew.

For some reason he was unable to fathom, Aman Tripathi was going to marry Kusum, he knew he was, and he’d still kissed Kartik. Why the hell, Kartik did not know.

The moment he saw the shadow flit across Aman’s eyes, he knew there was something off. He no longer wanted to laugh anymore. He tried, he did – he so desperately tried to believe this was all a prank and Aman was just pulling his leg. He tried, but then he saw Aman raise his hands and move his lips to speak. He couldn’t hear over the rush of his frantic heart beating, and he didn’t have to. He realized Aman knew about this and before he could let his eyes well up, he left. He didn’t stop until he was safe in his flower boutique, he didn’t care about the vehicles on the street, the wine in him or the kiss he just had – Kartik just ran.

\---

The neat cursive font of the wedding invitation turned blurry as Aman’s eyes welled up. Through the rushing of his blood, he heard two doors slam, one fainter than the other. As the two doors thudded, Aman processed two things.

 _Thud!_ \- one, loud, but barely audible over Aman’s shock.

The door hit a wall as Kartik speedwalked out the bookstore. Aman processed the last minute. Fifteen seconds, he was up against a wall, fingers tangled in Kartik’s hair and lips attached to his. Fifteen seconds the kiss lasted, Aman’s collar in Kartik’s fists – held tight like he couldn’t fathom the thought of letting go. Fifteen seconds of hearts rushing, lips moving in prayer, delight and comfort. Fifteen seconds of nothing except each other.

And then a bell sounded. The kiss broke. Another fifteen seconds, playing much quicker than the kiss in Aman’s mind. Kartik pulling back, huffing in annoyance. He looked cute then, Aman noted. Walking to the door, opening a letter. Aman’s heart had felt light, for once in a long, long time – he’d liked it. He was terrified, scared about somehow catching feelings for the man he was working with, but he _liked_ it. He _wanted_ it. He’d wanted this to happen for _months_. He wanted this and so much more.

In the few seconds of the kiss, he realized he never wanted to let it go.

 _Thud!_ – one more, far away, but still resonated enough to reach Aman’s shocked senses.

Aman’s brain worked back in slow motion. He registered Kartik walking back with the letter. Slightly scowling at it, a smirk still on his face. He saw Kartik read the letter, heard the small rustle when a card hit the carpet. He remembered the look on Kartik’s face – disbelief. Aman saw Kartik’s face and he realized Kartik knew. His brain wasn’t working but Aman barely registered his feeble try to get Kartik to stop – a weak attempt at pleading, before his brain took over and he realized it was too late to explain. It was too late because Kartik probably hated him now. It was far too late because, well, Kartik was already gone.

In the few seconds that Kartik took to rush out, Aman realized that Kartik knew about the wedding. _His_ wedding.

\---

Two days.

Two days of radio silence on both ends.

Two days of Aman convincing himself that Kartik would be back, that he’d talk to him. Hoping they’d sort everything out.

Two days – or rather, nights – of Kartik not sleeping. Two entire days of him staring at files and laptop screens, trying to clear his head, to get the image of Aman’s face and the wedding card out of his mind. He distracted himself with work, focusing on the case at hand. Trying to find leads, anything, anything at all that would get his mind – and heart – off whatever happened. Except even his work was consumed with Shankar and Kusum, the thought of Aman’s wedding poking and prodding at his mind.

The third day, Aman was so, so close to calling Kartik. Just as he worked up the courage to text him, he noticed the florist’s door open and Kartik walk out, not sparing a single glance towards the bookshop he’d spent multiple nights in, going through work. He got on his bike, and drove off, stride holding a sort of frustrated purpose Aman had never seen before.

Having no idea where Kartik left to, all Aman hoped was for the man to come back. At this point Aman would take _anything_ , even Kartik never talking to him, as long as he didn’t entirely end the mission and came back.

\---

The sound of Kartik’s bike jolted Aman up. He’d waited all day at the window for Kartik to show up and at some point drifted off since he’d decided to not remember the fact that he hadn’t slept in two days either.

Through the dim streetlights, Aman could barely make out the other man’s silhouette staggering off his bike. Kartik seemed like he was trying to get the stand down, but he was struggling so much, shoulders slumped and hands shaking – like he was drunk.

That, combined with the amount of time he’d been out concerned Aman to no end. Kartik was good with his bike, took care of that thing so much he’d clench his jaw at Aman if he even so much as put his hand on it. Seeing him now, so carelessly kicking it and stumbling all over, made Aman’s body react before he comprehended what was happening. Almost sprinting across the street, he reached a heavily breathing Kartik and tried to hold him still, except-

Blood. Bruises.

Kartik’s shoes looked like they’d gone through an entire muddy racecourse, mud caked on them just like the specks of blood covering his hands. At the sound of Aman whispering his name, Kartik turned around to meet the concerned brown eyes – causing his partner to gasp. In the dim light of Delhi’s lamps, Kartik’s face was shadowed with a black eye, multiple bruises and cuts. The long, thin bruise running down his neck into the collar of his shirt didn’t help much either. Even his face beneath all of those wasn’t well off. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, which, if Aman was being honest, was probably what he himself looked like.

Kartik didn’t say a word as Aman led him into the flower shop, too shocked at his arrival to talk. The shorter man stayed quiet too, his protective instincts kicking in as he sat his partner down and went off to find a first aid kit, returning to kneel before the sofa Kartik was seated on. One look into Kartik’s eyes and he knew he’d never tell him what happened, so Aman just quietly started tending to the bruises on his face, grimacing when Kartik flinched at the sting of medical alcohol.

“You should go.”

It was so softly spoken, Aman wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been focusing on Kartik’s face. When he looked at Kartik to convince himself he actually did speak, the man looked… resigned. Angry, even. Eyes staring off at something behind Aman, he repeated it again, soft as ever.

“You should go, Aman.”

If there was one thing he absolutely _didn’t_ want to do right that moment, Aman did not want to go. Screw Kartik for suggesting that.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kartik,” he says, soft yet determined as he kept on cleaning the bruises, furrowing his eyebrows as Kartik only replied with a huff. Like he was trying to laugh but he was too hurt for it.

“Hm. No. You should go. Don’t worry about me – Kusum’s probably waiting anyway.”

“Kartik I told you-”

“No. Aman. _Jao_. It’s fine, she’s more of a partner anyway.”

Aman was clenching his teeth so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a tooth. Glaring at Kartik, he decided to not say anything until the idiot of a partner he had was patched up.

“Your _fiance_ , go,” Kartik sneered. That was it.

Aman was hurt enough about the letter, but Kartik not giving him an opportunity to say anything angered him more. Of course, Aman worried about him, Kartik was his goddamn partner – who he _kissed_. He took in a deep breath, about to give Kartik a piece of his mind because he just _wouldn’t sit still_ until he was patched up. Huffing, just as he opened his eyes and looked at Kartik, he saw the tears.

“Aman-”

That stopped him. He needed to stay quiet. Aman just looked at him, waiting to listen.

“ _Why_ , Aman? Just. Why,” he sniffs and continues, “You kissed me, but you’re engaged to Suman. Why?”

And Aman’s lost his words. He wanted to tell Kartik, get it out, but the look in his eyes, pleading and hurt made him hesitate.

“Kartik- I-,” he took a deep breath, willing every ounce of strength into getting the words out.

“I love Kusum. _Pyaar karta hu usse_. I love her”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I know it's been so so so long I hate school I'm trying my best to update faster thank you so much for bearing with me. 
> 
> Also please do leave kudos and comment I live for them and they honestly keep me going. Thanks for all the love :))


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist.  
> AKA Aman loves Kusum, apparently, and Kartik's now stuck in a loop of confusion and shock.

_I love Kusum_.

Three words. Three, simple, effortless words to any onlooker.

None of that to Kartik Singh. Those three words turned into ten, hundreds, thousands. Simple words twisted and moulded into complicated strings and swirls of emotion. The effortless way Kartik sat on the chair did nothing to give away the tornado raging inside of him.

Aman loved _Kusum_.

Apparently, he loved her enough to get a wedding arranged in secret. With a mob family. Someone he was working against.

The three words, thrown out, bounced around the room’s walls like something impatient. Kartik’s denial refused to absorb them, neither did Aman’s guilt. They hovered in the air, heavy and unusual, waiting for something to happen, someone to react – only to be shattered with the sound of a door closing.

Aman stormed out. After his little outburst – and the sort of confession, something in his mind clicked. Kartik was out all day. He said he was working on the case. He got _hurt_.

Aman was shocked as to why Kartik could’ve gotten this hurt. Aman knew he could’ve done something if he’d known before. He also knew he should’ve negotiated something. He knew he should’ve expected something like this to happen.

Slamming the door to his bookshop, Aman tried to _think._ His brain was racing with thoughts, concerns. How could he have let this happen? Why did he let Kartik get hurt?

And most importantly, how did Kartik get hurt?

Before he could proceed anywhere with his thoughts, his body went on autopilot. He grabbed the keys to his bike and sped off, a particular destination in mind.

While amidst the flowers, Kartik watched his colleague zoom off somewhere.

_Kusum_.

He remembered they had a ‘date’ set up with her, at a café, and Aman probably went there. To the _love of his life_. He couldn’t care less about Kartik hurting, he guessed.

Kartik knew he had to work on the case. No matter what, he had to do this. He had to figure out what the hell was going on.

So he left too.

\---

Thirty minutes later, Kartik got off his bike. A lone garage stood in the middle of nowhere, a flickering lamp illuminating the entrance, a small light inside. The only evidence that someone was there.

He looked around, his instincts warning him to not move. He was already hurt, he couldn’t afford to be at a disadvantage again. Even now, a part of him was scared about letting Aman down, if he failed to do his job.

Something was off. The place did seem empty, there were no people standing guard or any traps he could see, but something felt off. He knew for sure Shankar would be there, but his instincts told him that there was something else.

A flash of red caught his attention at the door. Kusum stepped out, cigarette in hand, only to see Kartik and freeze. Kartik was shocked but mostly annoyed. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he was pissed at her because she had to have stood Aman up to be here, working with Shankar.

“Kartik- don’t- don’t go in,” she tried to reason with him, shock clear on her face. He didn’t even question how Kusum knew his real name. Pushing her aside, Kartik decided to go in anyway. He needed to confront Shankar. It was now, or ever.

“Kusum. Move.”

Stepping into the garage, he saw nothing but emptiness. He tried to look around, but the meagre light from a bulb near the window at the far back didn’t do much for him. He walked into the middle of the room, freezing as he heard the clear click of a gun cocking.

Slowly raising his hands, he turned around, only to be faced by someone in a hood, pointing a gun right at him. The man’s other hand slowly raised, swiping over his head to drop his hood. Kartik choked on his breath at the sight before him, eyes wide. He tried to form a question but his voice squeaked despite his efforts – only to be interrupted as a low voice resonated through the darkness.

“Bhai,” he said, the sound almost drowned by Kartik’s thudding heart and troubled breathing.

“Jeetu Bhai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik it's been long, and the chapter's short. I'm sorry, exams have fucked me up. But! enjoy reading, I'll try my best to write better and write more if my writer's block permits me, that is. :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated y'all are so nice I love you!
> 
> (sorry for the plot twist at this point my writing is so irregular and shit that's the only thing that's probably making you keep reading lol)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos and comments and tell me anything I can do!


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